


Comet Cupcakes

by FcrestNymph



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2Ptalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FcrestNymph/pseuds/FcrestNymph
Summary: The biggest lover of poisoned baked goods had to start somewhere. Oliver's first time adding 'new' ingredients.





	Comet Cupcakes

Oliver’s first time ‘messing’ with food.

“Oliver~”

“Go away, Gavin!”

“Oliveeerrr~”

“Go away, Alaric! And you too, William!”

“Oh Oliver, why so grouchy?” Gavin drawled.

The young boy shrunk into himself, shooting a furtive glance to the kitchen door. The doorknob jiggled. His body tensed. The doorknob stilled. He did not relax, for only moments later,

“Open the door, Oliver. We’re hungry~!” He heard snickers from through the door.

“You _know_ I need these! Leave me alone, you guys! My friends asked me to bake for them!”

“Pshh, what friends? You know, we know, _everyone_ knows that you don’t have friends. I mean, look at you.” Accents coated every word from the exchange, a mixture of four different nationalities clashing against each other. The one speaking in that moment was Scottish.

“Chocolate bunny! A-and the fairies, and–”

“I’m _talking_ to a fairy! Oh, did you get a little friend~? Is that your little fairy friend?” Now, it was Welsh.

Oliver flinched, turning away from the door. “Go away! I haven’t even iced them, you wouldn’t be able to have any yet anyways! and no, I don’t have a…A ‘ _fairy_ ’ friend! I have a _real_ fairy friend!”

A fist slammed on the door, making Oliver jump. He didn’t even have the physical body of a ten year old, and he was already skittish. “You’re gonna give them to us, or you’ll regret it~!” Oliver took a deep breath, letting his eyes wander around the kitchen as his mind raced. His friends were going to come to a party today! He couldn’t show up without treats. His brothers didn’t even _like_ cupcakes! His gaze wandered to the sink, pausing on the green cylinderical container. White power was spilled on the counter, some of it falling into the sink. The stains on the counter was going to be scrubbed off later, or else the chemical wouldn’t be out in the open.

He swallowed. Could…Could he?

A slam on the door spurred him into motion. He stumbled forward, his legs not as sure of the idea as his mind was. And that was saying something. He grabbed the container, his eyes flicking to the label.

“Comet…”

He walked a few steps across the kitchen, towards the bowl of half mixed icing. A glance over his shoulder to the kitchen door. So far, other than comments from his brothers, it was silent. No metal rummaging. No picking the lock yet. He had time.

Oliver looked back at the bowl. Butter, icing sugar, and a small splash of milk sat in the bowl, the spatula resting on the counter. He looked at the chemical. Back at the bowl. He lifted the container, paused, and tipped it. A shower of white powder fell into he bowl, indistinguishable from the sugar. He bit his lip, pushed the chemical to hide behind a paper towel holder, and began to stir. As soon as it was combined, he grabbed a piping bag from a drawer, an ‘O’ clumsily carved into the wood.

He spooned it in, twisted the top, and spun to face his cupcakes. As always, he made them look beautiful. He jerked as he heard metal hitting metal, muttering a candy flavour under his breath as his version of a curse word. He didn’t have much time. He hurried, the remaining frosting sloppy, untidy. He set the icing down. The lock clicked. He turned to the door.

His three brothers slithered into the kitchen, and Oliver swallowed. He pushed out his lower lip, moving to guard his cupcakes. “Leave them alone, guys! I need them!”

One of the brothers stepped forward, a hand shooting out before Oliver had a chance to even realize what was happening. He sharply inhaled as a blow hit him square in the nose, and he stumbled back, using the counter as support. “I s-said–Go away!” He was hunched over, one hand on the counter and one on his rapidly gushing nose. A knee made contact with his gut, and he gasped, taking in a shaky breath. He couldn’t even get in another word before he was shoved to the ground, a foot slamming into his side as he was stepped over.

He curled up in a ball, sniffling, facing away from his brothers. As he heard the sound of munching and cupcake wrappers being crumpled, he brought his hands to his face. It did two things. One, it kept his bleeding nose from pouring out and draining down his throat.

And two, it hid his grin.


End file.
